


Where You Left It

by vivider



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1430461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivider/pseuds/vivider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU of Iron Man 3 wherein Tony and Pepper break up instead of Tony destroying the suits, and Tony somehow falls into a relationship with Steve. But he still can't give up Pepper completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Left It

Tony knows when Steve wakes up the next morning because he doesn’t try to hide it. There’s a rustling from the bed as he fastens his cuff links, Steve pushing the sheets aside and sitting up, asking, “Where are you going?” It’s an even, measured voice, not upset. They haven’t made any promises to each other and Tony knows better than to think that Steve is naïve just because he has bad taste in uniforms.

“There’s something I have to take care of. I’ve been putting it off.” He doesn’t offer more reassurance than a flicked glance his way. Tony’s suit is immaculate, pressed, and sharp. He looks like he could walk into a press conference and make another foolish declaration. It’s close to what he is going to do.

“And you don’t want any help,” Steve says, a statement without a question. It’s hard to tell if he feels left out or understanding. Tony will have to worry about that later, in any case; his head needs to be in the game to finish this.

“Yeah. I don’t.”

His voice is flat, and he doesn’t say anything else before he sweeps out.

\--

Leaning on the doorway to Pepper’s office until she notices he’s there is a new sensation. It hasn’t been that much time, comparatively, that she’s had one, and Tony doesn’t typically do well with being still and silent and ignored. It’s uncharacteristic of him—but he’s been uncharacteristic in a lot of things lately.

“Ms. Potts,” he says finally, and she looks up quickly, poised and perfect and suddenly at loose ends at the sight of him. Tony knows her well enough to see the edge of brittle frailty behind her raised eyebrows, her expectant look and untouchable veneer.

“Mr. Stark.”

“I thought I made it clear when I promoted you that I didn’t want a new P.A.”

“And you… don’t have one.” She’s starting to look exasperated, shading into genuinely angry. Things are tense between them, strange as they’ve never been before, and they both want back stability. To her, it seems like he’s playing his usual flippant game, trying to pretend he hadn’t broken their relationship down.

“Right. So, I want my old one back. Not as a demotion,” he hurries to add, trying to explain himself without stepping into the morass of desperate hurt that lay between them. “But things have gotten a little—I mean, you haven’t been by lately. To pick up my laundry.” It sounds lame and nonsensical. He presses forward, talking faster, knowing Pepper recognizes his verbal flailing for what it is and getting all the more self-conscious for it, a feeling he hates. “I don’t want you to pick up my laundry. That’s not your job anymore. But I do want—you, around. In some capacity.”

He can see her thinking swiftly, processing what he is and isn’t saying. Tony spares a fond moment for her when he sees her get it, sees her decide not to make him articulate it. Her sober expression is enough for him to know that she does, is skilled enough at interpreting his fumbled speech to communicate with him in a way no one else has ever managed to.

There’s a lot of reasons he loves her, but that’s it, he thinks. That’s the one that takes the cake.

She lets the silence settle for a few long moments before she tells him quietly, posture relaxing against her desk, “I am around. I’m right where you left me.”

And it’s just like that that he knows they’ll be okay. Not lovers, not significant others, but also not boss and employee, no matter what façade he’s putting on it to tell her he’d rather have her than not have her. Tony knows what he’s sacrificing by throwing in the towel on their relationship, but he also knows what he’s gaining. He can’t do this without her, and the great thing about Pepper is that she already knows that, and if they’re not dating, she won’t make him say it.

“Yeah,” he exhales, almost a sigh. “Yeah, you are. I’m the one that’s moved. I get it. So just—drop by sometimes, will you? Dummy can’t take it, the stress of wondering how you are. If he’ll see you again.”

Pepper quirks a tremulous smile, seeing through that, too. “He’ll see me again,” she says firmly. “I might need a few days, but you can tell him that’s never been a question.”

Tony steadfastly ignores the heady wave of relief that provokes in him. “Good.” He clears his throat. “That’s good. He’s a wreck. You know what a wreck he is. Can’t do anything on his own without—“ He trails off, the pretense too thick to maintain.

Although she doesn’t hug him, needs to keep that distance now if they’re to see each other again without the deep weight of romantic expectation, Pepper’s eyes soften and to Tony, who really doesn’t get hugged very often, it’s almost as good.

“I know.”

\--

Steve does hug him. Okay, it’s not a real hug, it’s kind of a man embrace of camaraderie—despite them having had sex the night before, which Tony has to make an incredulous comment about. “Really? You’re pulling the bro code? I’m not going to bite you if you hug me, you know. I had your dick in my mouth last night and nothing happened then. I think it’s safe.”

Steve looks at him with such profoundly affectionate exasperation that Tony is momentarily dizzy with confusion. It looks like Pepper had, before she’d made the ultimatum about the Iron Man and he’d stared at her silently, unable to answer her, to choose. Until she’d walked out.

“I thought you might not want to talk about it. You’re… prickly.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I get it. The thing is done. It’s over with. I’m all yours. Uh, on alternate Tuesdays. You have to set up a time share with the suit, I’m not actually all yours, it gets jealous if I don’t attend to its needs—“

“Tony,” Steve cuts in. “Shut up.”

This time it’s a real hug.


End file.
